Stepping Stones
by Erriel
Summary: Snapshots and short stories from the life of Akira Touya.
1. black vs white recollections

**STEPPING STONES**

**preface  
**

* * *

**black vs. white ~recollections~**

* * *

Sunlight filters down in mellow, bone-soothing waves of warmth, and the cherry blossom trees are bursting with heavy spring blooms. An errant wisp of wind whisks past, plucking up handfuls of white petals and scattering them over a cobblestone path. More sun fingers its way through the clouds, rippling over the ground's snow-like mantle.

A little ways up the road, two figures glide around a gentle corner. Fallen petals swirl about in their wake, drifting far from their original resting places before touching back to earth. One of the figures, a man with a large pack slung over one shoulder, pauses to look around the park. The other, a man seated in a wheelchair, gazes up at the ivory-laden branches.

"We'll go there," says the first, indicating a small picnic table in the shelter of several trees.

The man in the chair nods, his eyes fixed not on his companion, but on the floating white petals.

When they reach the table, the man with the pack brushes off a layer of dropped blossoms, then reaches into his bag. In a soft succession of thuds, a wooden _goban_ and two _go-ke_ are placed upon the table's surface. The pre-game rituals are performed in wordless, practiced motions. Both men murmur the customary "onegaishimasu," and the white player, the man who was carrying the pack, places down his first stone. The man in the chair studies the board for a moment before making the move for black.

"You still play very well," says the white player after several minutes, as his opponent takes several ivory stones.

The black player manages a wry half-smile. "Go is one of the last things I would want to forget," he replies, leaning back in his wheelchair as he surveys White's play. "I hope my fingers will remember the motions long after my mind is completely gone."

A couple more moves are made in silence.

"You're good," Black tells his opponent at last. "One of the best I can remember. You must have worked very hard to come so far."

Placing down his next stone with an audible "clink," the white player does not reply. The game continues for several more plays, with both men bowed intently over the _goban_. Another breeze weaves past, sending flower fragments tumbling across the worn wooden board.

"How much have I forgotten?" asks the black player suddenly. "Weeks, months…years? Or have you not known me long enough to tell?"

Still staring down at the _goban_, White eventually gives a slow, vague nod. "Would you like to hear a story?" he asks after a beat of silence, finally setting down another one of his ivory stones.

"What kind of story?"

"Ah…a story with you, me, and some things in between." The white player laughs softly, then shrugs. "I'm not very good at this," he admits, putting a hand behind his head, "so I can't promise that it will be interesting or funny…or make much sense. After all, I can only tell you the parts I've heard or remember personally. Many pieces will probably be left out, and what is left may be hard to put back together."

The black player tilts his head. "Start from the end, then," he says. "By the time you reach the beginning, I might be able to help you."

"Thank you. I'll try my best."

Deftly lifting a stone between two fingers as he returns to the game, White begins his tale. "One of the characters in our story is a boy who plays Go," he says as he glances over the _goban_ and swiftly pinpoints a favorable spot. "Appropriately enough."

Black's answering clink is quick to follow. "Did I know this boy?"

"Hmm. Maybe you'll remember him. His name is Akira Touya."

* * *

_**Notes: **So I was going through my old files and rediscovered some fics from my Hikaru no Go-obsessed days. "Stepping Stones" was originally supposed to be a collection of fifteen or so stories at different points in Akira's life, all connected by the beginning game between the black player and the white player (they were either Akira and his dad or Hikaru – I can't remember). I only ever finished four stories (I have always been a lazy bum), but since all four are stand-alone oneshots, I thought I'd post them anyway._


	2. your number one fan

**STEPPING STONES**

**1  
**

* * *

**your number one fan  
**

* * *

By most sixteen year-olds' standards, Akira Touya was incredibly neat. His bed sheets were never tugged less than flawlessly straight, his newly-washed clothes never strayed from their proper hangers, and his parents never, _ever_ needed to remind him to clean up after himself. Akira, after all, was not a child who tumbled into mud puddles or scuffed his new shoes against the cement. Instead, he busied himself combing his hair into impeccably shiny sheets or ironing the most minuscule creases out of his school uniform.

In some sense, Akira disdained errors in etiquette almost as much as sloppy mistakes on the _goban_. Realizing, at a very young age, how wholeheartedly most adults appreciated good manners, he had taken pains to perfect his genial smile and gracious speaking voice. In many cases, his diligence had paid off.

"Ah, the young Touya boy is _so _polite!" the grownups would whispered. "Why can't our own children be that refined?"

"Refined? Yeah right!" Shindou liked to retort. "Touya, you idiot, obsessive neat freaks like you make me look bad! Mom's always going on about how '_Akira_ doesn't bleach his hair' and '_Akira_ didn't drop of out school' and '_Akira_ doesn't leave his frickin' fan mail molding on the table for months'!"

"Maybe you should follow my example," Akira replied icily. "Don't you realize how irresponsible it is not to answer your mail?"

And because Akira Touya had propriety down to a precise art, and because Shindou winning any argument, no matter how trivial, was immensely annoying, Akira found himself hunched over the kitchen table far past midnight, his normally sharp eyes glazing over with exhaustion. Forcing back an unseemly yawn, the teen Go prodigy reached back towards his voluminous pile of mail and dragged out the nearest envelope.

_Dear Touya-san_, he read through bleary eyes, _I'm your number one fan, and I have a very important question for you! The question is how do you get your hair so nice and shiny? My friend says that it looks girly, but I want to make my hair nice and shiny, too. Any secrets to share? _

With a weary sigh, Akira yanked out a new sheet off his stationary pad and began composing a response. _Dear Number One Fan, _he wrote, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand, _I would be glad to help you. My technique involves two bottles of shampoo, lemon juice, a handheld iron, and…_

Several fistfuls of mail later, Akira's fatigue had only worsened.

_Akira-kun! _his current fan letter began in swirling red font. _I think you are really sweet and cool! Your eyes are so pretty, and I love how you are always so nice on TV! Will you go out with me? I'm your number one fan!_

Akira blinked several times before he was able to read the paper in front of him._ Dear Number One Fan, _he scrawled out at last,_ I sincerely appreciate the high esteem in which you hold me, but I am afraid that I must reject your offer. And no, it does not have anything to do with Hikaru Shindou. Please tell people to stop asking that._

There was a stream of letters along very similar lines, and Akira did his best to give each one a sufficiently coherent reply. He answered (as politely as possible) a couple more "number one fans" asking his opinion on the latest pro games, and a couple others telling him to hook up with Shindou. By the time Akira glanced up at the clock again, it was three hours later, and he had worked less than a quarter of the way through his weekly mound of fan mail.

Suppressing a groan, Akira eased a tattered envelope out from under the still daunting pile. This piece of mail had apparently lain there for quite some time –several deep creases crisscrossed the front, nearly obscuring the sender's unfamiliar address. Prying up the flap, Akira peered down and gingerly extracted the letter's sole contents: a thin square of notebook paper that had been folded in two.

As he flipped open the sheet and smoothed it out on the table, his eyes swiftly regained their alert green glimmer. With its wobbly, smudged lines and badly crinkled surface, the drawing was decidedly amateurish, but that was forgivable in light of the artist's intentions.

Akira was looking down at a crudely drawn _goban_, and his opponent had already made the first move. A lopsided white circle, outlined in pencil, hung faintly over one of the star points.

A half-smile tugging at the ends of his lips, Akira neatly drew in a black stone at the other end of the board. Now feeling a little more awake, he refolded the makeshift board and promptly sealed it into a fresh envelope.

The match that followed was incredibly slow. Akira often had to wait days between individual moves, and tried not to be unnerved by how much time he had to analyze the plays. Unmitigated by the tense, perpetual actions of a normal Go game, possibilities and premonitions danced endlessly through his head. Should he play this position, or would a chancier move to the other side present a more formidable attack? What if his opponent chose to follow him there? Would it be better to gather his defense in the same location? The black and white stones churned themselves into a dizzying grey plain as scenario upon scenario flitted across Akira's mind's eye.

His opponent, for their part, also seemed to deliberate extensively over each placement of a stone; every time the paper _goban_ resurfaced on Akira's kitchen table, it had acquired a whole new network of wrinkles, smudges, tears, and blotchy red eraser marks.

Despite their efforts, however, the other player was clearly no pro; they made many of the basic, solid moves commonly taught in Go classes, but rarely took risks, often overlooking excellent opportunities. Given the challenger's apparently timid nature, their lack of a handicap was a surprising gamble…or, more likely, as Akira swiftly decided, the telltale mark of a novice. As the game progressed, the young Go prodigy made a point of deliberately leaving openings in his own plays, in hopes that his more inexperienced opponent would gain some aggressiveness and insight.

In time, Akira's strategy seemed to work. The wispy, hesitant pencil lines, characteristic of the other player's opening moves, eventually darkened and grew more fluid. Additionally, the amount of eraser dust littering the bottom of the envelopes steadily diminished. When Akira began receiving the _goban_ only one day after he'd mailed it, he felt a surge of satisfaction. His opponent was now making smarter, more confident decisions and, in doing so, was slowly closing the gap between the two of them. Akira, for his part, enjoyed anticipating how his new "student" would react to the most recent developments…_and_ being pleasantly surprised when he turned out to be wrong.

Soon enough, the paper board became so cluttered with creases and smudge marks that Akira had difficulty seeing where his opponent…or even his past self…had already placed a stone. Furthermore, he was beginning to find pencil stains on his customarily clean hands.

"You won't believe how many crazy fangirls are sending me stuff!" Shindou complained the next time they met at the Go Saloon. "Stop bluffing, Touya. There's _no_ way you actually like looking at that junk!"

It was with a smug…and surprisingly sincere…smile that Akira answered he did.

Snail mail Go, Akira knew, was a strange, whimsical, idea –why, after all, hadn't his opponent challenged him over the Internet or even in person? But he always nudged these thoughts aside as soon as he opened the newest envelope and jotted down his latest move. Whoever it was would surely have their reasons, but all Akira wanted was to play the game.

By the end of July, their strange match was gradually drawing to a close. Akira predicted that his student would win by several _komi_ –he liked to leave his first teaching games on a high note, and he had a feeling that this new player would be encouraged by any win, no matter how slight. As he opened the envelope for what would probably be the last time, his eyes widened in surprise.

Tucked into the paper _goban_ was a letter written on notebook paper nearly as crinkled and smeared as the sheet that surrounded it.

_Touya-san, _the letter opened in faint spidery script, _you probably get a lot of mail, so I will try not to take up too much of your time. My name is Tomoko Kobayashi, and I am seventy-five years old. I started playing Go several years ago, shortly after I saw one of your televised matches. Ever since, I have always hoped to meet you. _

_When I first sent you the _goban_, it was because I had no idea what to write in a real letter. After all, I'm just an old woman without anything to say that might be even a little interesting to a bright young prodigy like yourself. Go was the only thing I could think of that we might have in common._

_You can tell that I'm not very good. At the beginning, I made so many mistakes and took days to make a move. So thank you playing with me, Touya-san. Because of you, my daughter says I've gotten much better. In addition, I feel that I have learned more about you from playing Go than I ever would have from an eternity of TV matches, _Weekly Go _articles, or fan letters._

_Touya-san, I have one last favor to ask, and I hope you will humor me in this. Please,** please** always play Go, even if it's not with me, because I believe that you really love what you are doing (you played the same game for months, didn't you?). This world needs to know that there are still people like that._

_Your number one fan (at least one of them?),  
Tomoko_

_P.S. Did _I_ win?_

* * *

When Tomoko Kobayashi received her next letter from Akira Touya, it contained two new sheets of paper: a freshly-drawn _goban_ with a small leaf of stationary folded inside.

_New game, Kobayashi-san_, the old woman read with a growing smile. _Yes, you won the last round, but this time, I'm not going to go easy on you._

**_Your_**_ newest number one fan,  
Akira_

_

* * *

_

Elsewhere, Hikaru Shindou was hunched over his own kitchen table, scribbling furiously across a cream-colored page of stationary with a sparkly pink gel pen. Hastily-drawn doodles of hearts and flowers lined the margins, framing Hikaru's messy handwriting.

_Akira-kun! Akira-kun! _Hikaru scrawled in huge, glittery, and ostentatiously flowery characters. _I think you're SO CUTE! Marry me now, even though Hikaru Shindou is MUCH cooler and has way better fashion sense! _

Leaning back, Hikaru shook several blond strands of hair from his narrowed eyes, his gel pen hovering over the very last lines of his letter. Finally, in the largest and showiest characters of all, he penned the message's closing words.

_Your NUMBER ONE FAN,  
Akari Fujisaki!_

Emphatically jabbing his pen into the dot of his final exclamation mark, Hikaru surveyed his handiwork with a satisfied smirk. "More fan mail for you, Touya!" he cackled as he sealed the message into one of several identical envelopes. "Have fun!"


	3. i'll be the one

**STEPPING STONES**

**2  
**

* * *

**i'll be the one  
**

* * *

"Akira-kun! Hey, Akira-kun!"

Pivoting on his heel in front of the classroom, first-year Akira Touya glanced quizzically at the girl racing through the spotless corridors of Kaiou Middle School. Panting, she skidded to a stop a few feet in front of him. Her dark brown hair, tied into two long braids, flopped over her shoulders as she bent down to catch her breath

"Here!" the girl grinned as she straightened, shoving a small package into Akira's hands. "That's for tutoring me during Go Club at the beginning of the year! I hope you like it!"

Surprised as he was by this seemingly random gift, Akira tried not to look too taken-aback. "Ah…thank you, Hayase-senpai," he managed to say, shifting his books into the crook of his elbow as he accepted the box. "That's very kind of you. I didn't think anyone would remember those early games."

"I wouldn't forget!" the girl chirped back. As her eyes fell upon the hallway clock, however, she gave a gasp of dismay. "Shoot, I'm late! See you later, Akira-kun!"

As the girl pelted back the way she'd come, Akira looked bemusedly at what she'd handed him. Wrapped in plain red paper, the little box didn't appear to contain very much at all. Deciding to further examine the strange gift after school, Akira deposited it into his bag and continued into the classroom.

"Um, T-Touya-san?"

A shy-looking girl with short black hair was standing beside Akira's desk, clutching a small silver bag in her hands.

"Good morning, Satou-san," Akira said politely, laying down his textbooks.

"For y-you."

As she placed the bag carefully on top of his math binder, bewilderment at this unlikely coincidence tinged Akira's face. Although he did his best to maintain his usual composure, the girl quickly noticed his confusion. Flushing a deep shade of red, she stared intensely at the front of her school sweater.

"I just wanted to thank you for h-helping me before the last t-test," she blurted out, the tips of her ears burning. "Y-ou don't have to take it if you d-don't want to."

"You must have misunderstood, Satou-san," Akira said quickly, with as much diplomacy as he could muster. "I'm happy that you appreciated my help."

"Oh! Um, you're w-welcome."

And with a sheepish, meaningless wave of her hands, the girl swerved around and practically bolted towards her own seat.

_Strange, _Akira mused, frowning a little as he dropped the silver pouch into his bookbag. _That's two people in the row who've given me things. Was I supposed to bring presents to hand out today, too?_

As the day progressed, his puzzlement did not diminish in the least. During history class, a girl in the front passed him a package that was almost completely obscured by a gaudy silk bow. At lunch, several more mischievous girls flocked around Akira's table, ruffling his hair and stealing his dessert before showering him with small, brightly-wrapped gift boxes.

"Get us something good, Akira-kun!" they chorused as the students were dismissed.

_I understand a little more now, _Akira thought as he eyed his now bulging messenger bag. _I have to give all these people something in return for their presents. But why is everyone picking today to give gifts? And why only the girls? _

Heading towards the shoe boxes after school, Akira was surprised to see a sizeable crowd, one including the majority of the Kaiou Go Club, clustered in the hallway and eyeing him intensely. Feeling more than a bit apprehensive, he rested his now heavy bag against the floor and glanced into the compartment holding his shoes.

He was right to be wary. His shoe box was currently harboring a petite square container topped with clear plastic, one that certainly hadn't been sitting there that morning. As a perplexed Akira gazed down through the plastic, he slowly made out a flattened, dark brown sphere, one similar to an oversized Go stone. Carved into the thing's smooth surface were English words that Akira carefully scrutinized.

_I'll be the one._

All of the Kaiou students standing near a certain first-year Go prodigy were blasted by the same sudden shout.

"It's SHINDOU!"

Instantly, the surrounding swarm of people broke into snickers. Unrestrained sneers of "he's still raving about that Hikaru kid, even after he got kicked out of the Go club!" and "Touya needs to get a life outside of Go!" shot back and forth across the corridor at dizzying speeds. Ignoring these taunts, Touya glared at the strange object, an unbridled fire blazing across his pale face.

"What's going on!" rose a shrill female voice.

Hands on hips, Yuri Hidaka marched up to Akira, her closely cropped blond hair bristling in annoyance. "Don't yell in the middle of a school hallway!" she barked. "Don't you know better than to disrupt other students?"

"_I'll be the one_," Akira murmured to himself, still staring fiercely at the box. "Is this his idea of a challenge?" His eyes narrowed into slits of anger, while the knuckles of his now clenching fists blanched an angry white. "Someone like Shindou, who flouts professional Go players and runs away from real games…I cannot allow someone like that to pass me by. But what is he playing at with this? Why didn't he face me at the match with Haze…and what's his reason for having people send me all those strange presents?"

A sharp rap on the head brought Akira back to reality. "You really are obsessed!" Hidaka scoffed. "You and your Shindou conspiracy theories are ridiculous! Don't you even know what day it is?"

Akira looked at her blankly.

"He really _doesn't _know!" shrieked the other students disbelievingly. "How sheltered can you be? Touya may be good on a Go board, but he can't do anythingelse!"

Akira's eyes darkened. Ignoring the mounting sneers of his classmates, he impassively stuffed the box into his nearly-bursting bag and turned to leave. A hand that brushed briefly against his shoulder forced him to pause.

"February 14th," came a low, emotionless murmur.

As Akira's head jerked up, he caught a glimpse of a tall, uniformed figure disappearing soundlessly down the hallway. "Kishimoto-senpai?" he called tentatively.

If there was an answer, it was quickly drowned out by the loud laughter echoing throughout the school's perfectly polished corridors.

* * *

"Hayase-senpai, may I have a word with you?"

The energetic older girl screeched to a halt by the cluttered bulletin board, sending her thin braids slapping against her cheek. As she stopped, Akira was flooded with a weary sense of déjà vu.

Ever since forgetting about Valentine's Day (which wasn't difficult to do, Miss Ishikawa had sympathetically tried to convince him, if you were an industrious student and involved Go player who didn't pay attention to high school trivialities), other students had made Akira into the butt of countless jokes.

Akira himself wasn't particularly upset. Though he wasn't openly a social pariah before, he had already been coming pretty close. Joining the prestigious Go Club solely to challenge Shindou at the beginning of the year, and then quitting after the tournament, had rubbed many people the wrong way. Not only had the young Go genius intruded upon the club members' hard-earned turf, but he didn't even have enough respect to stay there. The fact that Akira was a reserved perfectionist of student who didn't mingle easily with others or bother to keep up on the latest trends had only worked against him.

In the eyes of many of his peers, Akira Touya, the rising star of the Go world, was an arrogant brat who cared only about protecting his own reputation…and blatantly snubbing the "less worthy" wherever he went.

Akira had vague ideas of what some students liked to whisper behind his back, but that had long ago become old news. He was more concerned about the individuals who hadshown him kindness; some of the girls who had been considerate –and courageous– enough to give him Valentine presents were now being mocked right along with him. Seeing spirited Hayase fighting with her friends or little Satou cringing in the corner made Akira immensely uncomfortable. He could ignore personal blows coolly enough, but disliked feeling guilty on other people's accounts.

Redeeming himself at this point would be difficult, but there was already one step he knew he had to take.

"Thank you very much, Hayase-_senpai_, for remembering me last month. Your chocolate was very delicious." With a solemn nod, Akira presented the girl before him with a package enveloped in meticulously-folded white paper.

"Hehe, so Akira-kun _does _know about White Day!" Hayase giggled, eagerly tearing apart the wrapping right there in the hall. "I was worried for a while!"

As she animatedly threw open the lid, her eyes lit up in delight. "So pretty!" she squealed as she pulled out two glossy satin ribbons and dangled them in the air. Without hesitation, she yanked off her own hair ties and knotted the ribbons onto the ends of her brown braids. "How do I look?" she demanded, tossing her head from side to side.

Akira, of course, said all the right words, and Hayase continued her trek down the hall with an extra bounce buoying her steps.

The reactions of the other girls varied. Satou managed a tentative smile after Akira gave her a cute stuffed kitten and a few kind words, while some of the other girls took their gifts with surprised taunts about Akira's lack of a social life. With the latter cases, Akira had simply smiled politely and continued on his way. By the end of the day, he had managed to thank each of his Valentine gift-givers in person…except for one.

Standing by his empty shoe box long after school let out, Akira stared at the pristine white tiles that lined the hallway. In the nearly empty passage, the footsteps of a passing student sounded remarkably like the clinks of Go stones upon a solid wood _goban_. Tracing the borders of each tile square with his relentless gaze, Akira wondered what it would be like to play a game upon a board as expansive as the floor of Kaiou Middle School. He'd been lost in his strange daydream for several minutes when a tall shadow fell over his line of sight.

"Hey, you! You're not supposed to loiter in the halls!"

Blinking twice, Akira's eyes flitted upwards. "Good afternoon, Hidaka-senpai," he said respectfully as he spotted the older student directly in front of him. "I'm sorry, but I'm waiting for someone. I might be here for a while."

Hidaka ran a hand through her pale hair. "I don't believe you," she grumbled, closing her eyes and throwing her head back irritably. Then, after several moments' pause - "Why are you still at Kaiou, Touya? You can do so much better than us. _Can't_ you?"

For one ephemeral moment, a wealth of unspoken words tottered over the two unseeing Kaiou students, suspended precariously between Akira's bowed head and Hidaka's upraised face. As the instant whisked itself away, however, Hidaka broke the silence. She opened her eyes, sighed quietly, and leaned back on one leg as she primly straightened her sweater. "I'm going to the Go Club," she said as she swerved around. "You better be gone by the time I come back."

It was then, somehow, that Akira knew.

"Senpai," he said, training his even gaze onto the girl. "I'm sorry, but I didn't bring you a suitable White Day present. I'll try to remedy that tomorrow. Would you like anything in particular?"

A twisted expression, one that borrowed elements from both an exasperated scowl and an uncharacteristically soft smile, played across his upperclassman's face.

"Come back to the Go Club," Hidaka said.

Glimpsing Akira's wide-eyed astonishment, she quickly added, "You can't be a competing member, of course, not when you turned your back on us after the tournament with Haze. That stupid lone wolf attitude of yours wasn't good for any of us, not when we already had so many reasons for hating you. But still…"

As Hidaka finally continued, Akira had to strain to hear her now low voice.

"They'd never admit it, but there are a lot of people, like Captain Kishimoto and maybe even Ito and Kojima, who still want to play you."

"I find that hard to believe," Akira said quietly. "Many members of the Go Club were adamant about having me leave. You were one of them."

Hidaka nodded in acknowledgement. "Like I said, we have so many reasons to hate you. But as much as we might laugh at you or taunt you or try to shove you away in the corner…in the end…it's stupid, but in the end, I think none of us would want to say we had Akira Touya at our school and didn't even tryto play him. Our club might benefit a lot, if you just dropped by every now and then."

"Ah. So…I could be Kaiou's secret coach?"

"Don't get so full of yourself, Touya! You're the one getting a second chance here, not us."

With a surprisingly large amount of effort, Akira managed to conceal his suddenly rising smile. "I'll try," he replied, gazing past Hidaka's rather snappish-looking glare. "By the way, Senpai, I was wondering…why did you choose the words _'I'll be the one_' for your Valentine's gift?"

"All the chocolates had stupid sayings like that!" Hidaka barked, reddening considerably. "Besides, you were convinced it was Shindou, weren't you?"

"The message was…er…ambiguous."

"No, you just need to drop that Shindou obsession!"

This time, the laughter that filled the Kaiou corridors was far softer, but also far warmer, than before.


End file.
